


[Footnotes] In Pieces.

by flamespill



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamespill/pseuds/flamespill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simply archiving this fill to the SuitsMeme prompt: <a href="http://suitsmeme.livejournal.com/3323.html?thread=5622523#t5622523">Mike and Harvey always end up having sex at Mike's apartmet.</a></p><p><i>He was never more sure.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	[Footnotes] In Pieces.

It was most beautiful just before dawn, when sunlight begins filtering in, and there's a biological shift that Harvey experiences: from satiation to a certain sobriety that he can only attribute to the waning afterglow that Mike can provide him. He took in the warmth of the other body pressed against his, reveled in the little things[1]: the way strands (clumps, really) of Mike's hair shone gold, the feel of the stubble[2], and.

This room.

Of course.

When Harvey first set foot in this house, he was hesitant. He knew what to expect, from the dilapidated signage outside, to the rain-stains on the sides of the building, to the rust forming on the railings of the staircase. The little things. And of course he had expected a complete mess because rent here was, while expensive still (they were still in New York), within the price range that only starving artists will settle for (and there were many in New York, mind). And, because Harvey was Harvey and his analysis was almost-always correct, Mike's room certainly met the image in Harvey's head. Except —

Except the little things, like how there was a framed picture of Mike's parents in the nightstand, or how several pictures of Trevor, Jenny, and Mike welcomed visitors to Mike's bedroom, or how there were two paintings on the wall of his makeshift living room, both from Rachel (Donna had mentioned that she paints, among other artsy stuff). The paintings complemented each other, to form this strange view of Manhattan from some point, somewhere.[3] Suddenly, Harvey felt an impulse to tear at the painting, if only because it captured something of Mike's that Harvey knew he may never have.

There weren't much windows, but whatever window there was provided just enough light to illuminate this one corner of Mike's room that Harvey had never noticed before: a small shelf of books, both fiction and nonfiction, and a scattering of papers just below. Highlighters littered the area, mostly yellow, green, and blue. And, of course, Mike's glasses.[4]

But within that same corner is a camera. Now, Harvey had known that Mike casually takes photos of his favorite subjects: children, cars, people laughing in the park, and his grandmother. Now, though, Harvey had a slightest feeling (a wish, a hope) that Mike would be taking pictures of something — of someone new (not that Harvey would ever admit to it).[5]

Even the smell of this room was a mystery: it smelled like vanilla, certainly,[6] and old paper, and aftershave and something so distinctly Mike (as cliche as that sounds), and something stirred in Harvey.[7] It was most certainly a wakefulness that he didn't realize any smell could do, Mike or no.

It was in the little things that made this room more… palatable, for lack of a better word. Acceptable. Endearing, even. Because, he realized, Mike was right. This apartment was the culmination of Mike, from the mess on the floor, to the paintings, to the pictures, to this room and this bed and Harvey in this room — all pieces, mosaic pieces in this room, coloring Mike’s life, every single damn day. And Harvey will be damned if his room in his own place showed this much of him. But then again – why would he need to be afraid? Mike had, after all, seen most facets of Harvey’s personality.

Maybe except this one.

Harvey would never let Mike know – hell, he’d even take this to the grave – but Harvey was never more sure than when he’d stepped foot inside Mike’s apartment.

He was never more sure.

**Author's Note:**

> [2] (and he remembered the kiss from last night — the first of many, of course.)
> 
> [3] The second painting has a note attached: _the sky's the limit, Mikey_. The note was from Rachel, after Harvey had bet Mike off to Louis.
> 
> [4] Harvey loved it when Mike wore his glasses. Mike had complained, once, that he looked like an old librarian. Then Harvey had proceeded to fuck Mike with glasses on, afterwhich Mike had begun to wear his glasses more frequently.
> 
> [5] Mike was post-processing a picture one day, and grunted, and closed the file on his laptop. He then took the files and got them printed and Mike said, “these don’t need Photoshop.” Harvey demanded that he see those pictures, and Mike refused.
> 
> Harvey looked at the picture when Mike was fast asleep, and smiled. It was a picture of Harvey himself, concentrated on a file, tie the teensiest bit loose, and with a glimmer of passion in his eyes.
> 
> [6] Mike later argued that it smelled "girly" because Jenny had given him vanilla-scented soy candles, which he often used to counter the smell of weed. Not that Mike still smokes, but lighting has become a mannerism to which Mike is accustomed to.
> 
> [7] Maybe he did, on occasion, get hard on that smell alone.
> 
> [1] _because the little things matter,_ Mike told him once. _It's the little things that make us._


End file.
